Warrior Red
by Midnightistoolate
Summary: Sufferer explains his feelings a bit better than Kankri


Red.  
It's the color of romance.  
It's the color of a rose.  
Red.  
It's the color of my hands.  
It's the color of my blood.

A journey can never be taken alone. As for me I had many to help me survive in the world. Through great kindness and gentle hope I shall prevail, no matter what. Although now I am no more than a fairytale, told by the young trolls today, I hope that my messages will create hope for the weak and cowardly the way the Summoner has become Pupa pan. But to begin my descendent, with a long powerful journey known as life, you must have good beings around you. Take a look and you will see just exactly what I mean.

Gray.  
It is the color of endless sorrow.  
It is the color of a cloud filled with angel's tears.

Gray.  
It is the color of soft death whispering and beckoning to the diseased.  
It's the color of her eyes.

A lone girl stands before me. She is three sweeps, I am almost four. She looks at me curiosly and laughs. And runs away. We meet again when we are near ten sweeps. She is gorgeous. I am in love. Love is what we make two nights before the execution. Love is what fills our souls. The sorrow sets in and I am alone.

Green.  
It's the color of the sun.  
It's the color of the grass.

Green.  
It's the color of a love that has no bounds.  
It's the color of a mother's love.

The time is sunrise and the dew of the grass is tickling my squishy body. I am crying and I don't know why but my heart is empty and my soul aches for comfort. I am less than half a sweep and I am weak. I see a kind face smiling. I am warm again. The sun sets and I have melded with this being. She is my mother, supporting. Loving. Generous and kind. Her hands are graceful. I love her.

Yellow.  
It's the color of everlasting bravery.  
It's the color survival.

Yellow.  
It's the color of unbroken friendship and promise.  
It's the color of death.

Although he demands much attention and can be a bit whiny at times, my greatest friend is my best support. I have never told my love this, but he supports me more than she at times. Our bonds are ropes, woven into thick strands by calloused handss and attended to by a deep trust. His everwatchful eyes that cannot see keep us safe. But now I am a whisper in the wind, a shadow in a shallow pool and he is up there, being dissmissed to join me. And I am helpless to help him.

Red has never been a happy color for the people of Alternia. Always considered a mutated color that should be avoided at all costs. Why has this color plagued me so? Why must it be me that carries this burden? I have met no other troll that has to be such an outcast as me. So why have I been made to hurt in this way.  
I have seen amazing kindness as well as ruthless acts of hate and destruction that do not mean anything in the end. The way we live today is an all time low. Our queen, well no one listens to me that she is the greatest evil among us. Sure there are others that do bad. They are assassins. They are executors. They are killers. Although not all of them were born this way. Who is to blame for their new treacherous actions? The queen.  
The prejudice of this world has gotten beyond unstoppable and now it is not uncommon to see the highbloods stepping on lowbloods, taking their matesprits for their own evil purposes and slaughtering grubs needlessly.

If this is the way highbloods act I should not have been surprised when my death was ordered. I mean, I am teaching against them. So I suppose it was inevitable. However I wish so deeply that they'd spare the eyes of my loved ones as they did it. I did not mind dying so much as I minded the fact that I knew my sweet Disciple and caring Dolarosa would have their eyes damaged with my blood flowing and draining from me and their ears hurt with my painful screams.

Decaying. That's what I'm doing. Decaying in my mother's arms. My love has her hands wrapped around my long cold fingers and is washing it with hot tears. My friend cannot even look at me in fear of weeping. He will not be called names if he cries. I hope. Their sobs still ring in my ears all these years later. I cannot imagine what they feel. I wonder if it's similar to what I feel.

So my descendant.  
Are you understanding?  
Does it hurt you as well?  
I hope it does.  
It will make you a great warrior.  
So do not turn from pain.  
Embrace it.  
And the world will remember you, as it has done for me.


End file.
